


Cohabitation

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: M/M, Napping, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short established relationship Clint Barton/Pietro Maximoff ficlet. Pietro finds Clint asleep on the couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cohabitation

Clint is sleeping when Pietro comes home. He’s sprawled on the couch with one arm loosely hanging over the arm of it with his other laid on his chest, remote loosely clasped against his chest; his head is dropped back and his mouth is slightly open. It occurs to Pietro that the latter affects him with a sort of affectionate glow, but given that Clint could easily be drooling in that position, the fact that he finds it  _adorable_  is too frustrating to enjoy.

Pietro flickers across the room and turns off the television, and then a second later he’s right beside the other man to look down at him thoughtfully.

Clint’s eyes are lidded, jaw slack, hair mussed about his head. A half-finished beer is on the small table beside the couch, and perhaps it’s that that made Clint fall asleep, though of course, he’s quite capable of napping in the afternoon without the assistance of bad Canadian beer.

Chest rising and falling steadily, Clint looks  _peaceful_ , and Pietro reaches out carefully, two warm fingers pressing against the line of his neck to feel the pulsing rhythm of his heartbeat for a second or two. Then he carefully removes the TV remote and sets it on the table, watching him for a few moments more.

Barton barely stirs.

Then, of course, Pietro leans and carefully puts his hands under the back of the other man’s knees and under his back, lifting him with an ease and a care: he doesn’t particularly wish to leave the other man to hurt his neck for the sake of sleeping in the wrong place.

He carries him into the bedroom and puts him down, and swiftly removes Clint’s boots and belt, but Barton  _shivers_  slightly – the bedroom isn’t so warm, in truth, and initially he speeds forwards, grasps at the cover and puts it over the other’s body.

On his back, head on the pillow (neck properly supported, now), Clint looks good. Ridiculously good.

But cold.

Pietro drops his shirt aside, kicks off his shoes, and then slides into bed, presses his body against the archer’s side and wraps his arms around the other man’s body. Clint leans into it even in his sleep, for the sake of warmth, and Pietro smirks slightly, dragging his lips over the other’s temple before he closes his eyes.

—-

Clint wakes up  _warm_. Wonderfully warm, perfectly warm, and he opens his eyes, looking blearily in the direction of the warm. Pietro is laid on his side beside Clint, eyes closed, but he’s not sleeping.

Clint isn’t sure how he learned to tell the difference, but there’s something different in the slackness of Pietro’s face when he’s laid down with his eyes closed, and when he’s actually sleeping.

“You moved me. You’re _napping_ with me.” Clint says, trying his best not to sound too dumb-founded.

“I don’t nap.” comes Pietro’s dry response. “But you fell asleep in the living room, and then you looked cold.”

“Thanks.” Clint mumbles, and he looks at Pietro for a moment or two with a dopey grin on his face, and Pietro opens one eye, regarding Clint amusedly. Clint presses close again, and then Pietro’s hand plays over his back, fingers warm and slow and pleasant.

He could go back to sleep. He could nap some  _more_.

“Are you going back to sleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” Pietro murmurs quietly, and his hand curls through Clint’s hair, and it’s _good_. Pietro can be so  _weird_  about intimacy, but when they’re in bed together he’s usually freer, lighter. His  _hands_  feel good on Clint’s skin.

“I love this.” Clint speaks sleepily, mumbling the words against Pietro’s chest. “M’gonna sleep.”

“Uh huh.” He drops forwards against Pietro’s chest then, enjoys the hand in his hair, and lets his eyes close again. Cohabitation really does have its benefits.


End file.
